Trigger

epilogue

Levi Collins' headstone has yellow leaves on it.

Autumn has hit full-force in Levi and Finn's hometown. The tree looming above Levi's headstone has shown no mercy, plopping a whole pile of leaves around and on top of the stone. I sigh, kneeling down and brushing away some leaves to read the gravestone. Over a year. It's been over a year since Levi's suicide, and tears still prick at my eyes at the thought.

The breeze is cold, but I relish in it. I allow it to ground me- the colder the breeze, the more I can distance myself. The more I can be reminded that I'm not, in fact, still in the summer- where the air had been hot and stuffy- the less it hurts.

Another thing that keeps me grounded to the present is the hand that appears on my shoulder.

"You know," Brent tells me slowly, his deep and soothing voice allowing me to release a deep, slow breath, "Sometimes I wish that I could've met him."

I smile slowly, reaching up to hold onto the hand resting on my shoulder. "I think you guys would've been friends."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." I nod. Brent's arms wrap around my middle, his chin now resting on my shoulder, my body in between his legs. He's offering me comfort. "He was just... down-to-Earth, I suppose. You like people like that. And he didn't beg for pity or anything like that, even when he was losing his mind..." I look behind me to meet Brent's green eyes with a wince. "Sorry. I probably sound like I'm obsessed with him or something. There was nothing between us, I promise-"

Brent chuckles. "Don't worry, Kinsley. I understand. I know there was nothing between you too, but you have every right to miss him. And besides, you like me too much for me to worry about competition. Dead or alive."

I roll my eyes at him and he laughs, simply hugging me tighter as I turn my head to look back at the headstone. I reach forward, my fingers outlining the letters of his name etched into the cold stone. Levi Collins. He didn't deserve to feel this way. He did nothing wrong.

I move the flowers we brought so that they're not covered by leaves. I want people passing by his headstone to see the flowers, to know that he's still visited, that he's still loved by others. My eyes begin to inevitably water and my shoulders begin to shake, which Brent notices, because he holds me tighter and whispers to me that it's okay, that he's here. And as much as I love him for being here, for holding me, for grounding me; I know that deep down, it's not okay. I want other people to know Levi is still loved because it's the only way for me to try to live with the fact that Levi died thinking that no one loved him.

"Not fair," I begin to mumble, turning to hide my face in his chest. "It's not fair."

"I know it's not. But he wouldn't want you feeling this way."

"You didn't even k-know him."

Brent sighs and pulls me away. For a second I'm afraid that I've upset him, but he simply brushes my hair back and says, "Kinsley, I may not have known him, but from the stories you told me he sounded like a great guy. Great guys don't wish misery upon others. You don't give out your care easily, and if this is really a guy you cared about, then I know that he'd never want you feeling this miserable. Don't just mourn his death and hardships- celebrate the fact that he lived." I let out a shaky breath, nodding at his words and wiping at my eyes. Brent continues, "Tell me something about him. Something that doesn't have to do with the pills or accident."

"Um," I sniffle, "He played volleyball."

"There you go," Brent smiles. "Levi isn't just the boy who committed suicide out of a guilt of an act he didn't commit. He's more than that. He was a boy, with a life before the accident. One where he played volleyball. So try thinking about that a bit too, okay?"